


Praescitum: A Seam (+ Jevil) Nightmare Fanfic

by shoefaced



Series: Jevil + Seam Fanfictions by shoefaced (Chronological) [4]
Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Body Horror, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt, Eye Trauma, Foreshadowing, Gen, Horror, Nightmare Fuel, Nightmares, Psychological Horror, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:16:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoefaced/pseuds/shoefaced
Summary: On one particularly calm evening, Seam falls asleep in his armchair. As he drifts further into his dreamscape, a terrifying nightmare gradually unfolds around him.





	1. Somnolence

Ever since the gods disappeared, the lives of the Darkners changed for the worse. Time blurred, and the world had seemingly ceased its turning forevermore: unrelenting darkness pervaded the sky until every glimmer of hope, every ounce of reason, and every semblance of order yielded to mass panic and confusion. Almost all sense of purpose vanished from the Darkners’ lives, and even the four kings, who were the only remaining figures of authority, quarreled relentlessly about the best course of action. The growing tension within the kingdom made the roles of the exclusive court entertainers of Card Castle Jevil and Seam more critical than ever in keeping morale from plummeting, even if that meant sacrificing their own time and health to do so.

Seam had especially neglected to take care of himself: he struggled with his own dwindling sense of purpose, and performing with his jester companion was the only thing preventing him from sinking into the frigid waters of despair. When he wasn’t rehearsing or on stage, the mage would spend the time at his quaint home in the Field of Hopes and Dreams. Jevil decided to remain a resident in the castle but came to visit the mage as often as possible, and the two depended on each other for affection and company: cooking together, playing games, and snuggling close for long naps were frequent pastimes.

One day, Seam rocked in his favorite corduroy swivel chair, soothed by the ticks of the old grandfather clock that towered beside him. He smiled faintly at the sight of his lover on the couch nearby: in the warm glow of a lantern, the imp dozed under a massive patchwork quilt, and his lips twitched upward in blissful sleep.  _ I wonder what he’s dreaming about _ , Seam mused. The purple mage continued to ponder this while gazing on, listening to the quiet  _ Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock _ , of the clock, as he moved back and forth in the old chair. With each tick, tock, and rock, Seam’s own consciousness waned; his button eyes gradually shut as he ventured into his own slumber.

* * *

When Seam opened his eyes, all that he could see was darkness, unrelenting and hollow. He felt around for a surface before his paws finally rubbed against the rigid velvet underneath them.  _ Oh! _ he breathed a relieved sigh,  _ I’m in my chair _ . After a few moments, the feline’s vision adjusted. He began to make out the silhouettes of the room: the towering grandfather clock, the unlit lantern, the empty couch. But the couch seemed off somehow; in fact, everything felt slightly wrong, though he could hardly understand why. Perhaps the most noticeable difference was the silence: no sound of a breeze outside, no noise of him shifting in the chair, and certainly no ticking emanating from the old clock.

Seam cautiously rose from his seat and crept over to examine the clock from the front. Its pendulum swung back and forth like a sharp scythe cutting through pallid stalks of wheat, but it made not a tick. He raised his eyes to the dial; the minute and hour hands were nowhere to be seen, but the second hand raced ever-forward. The feline watched as it continued to circle, whittling away each infinitesimal second like a thin shaving from the world’s smallest block of wood. Anxiety set in, its tendrils snaking up Seam’s back. But he could not break his vision from the little hand that counted ceaselessly toward obsolescence.

The purple feline’s attention was finally interrupted by the sudden introduction of noise, particularly a shuffling from the couch’s direction. He turned to inspect for its source, but by the time he spun to look, all was silent again. However, a small note now sat on the armrest of the couch, placed intricately beside a well-folded quilt. Seam took a shaky breath.  _ Who left this? _ His ears flattened and his puffed tail trailing near the ground behind him, he approached the note and picked it up to inspect.

_ Don’t be late for fate! _ Seam read. He scratched his head while pondering the meaning of these words, and his body froze as it set in that he was, in fact, running late for something: his evening performance with Jevil in the Great Hall. The mage fumbled to his room and into his professional clothes before rushing out of his home. He bolted through the shadowed, blustery fields, pushing against the winds that resisted his every move. When the mage finally made it through the warp door, he scurried into the castle and finally made it backstage to Jevil. He greeted the jester through heaving gasps for air.

“Jevil! I’m here...Sorry to keep...you waiting.” The jester remained silent as if his lips were sealed shut. His face scrunched into a disappointed scowl as he ignored Seam’s greeting. Seam felt a stabbing twinge of pain at the lack of response: Jevil was never the type to be so silent and distant, but Seam conceded to himself that he deserved this treatment for being tardy. The mage tried to suppress his hurt by peering through the curtain and observing the audience--the seats were filled with waves of impatient frowns and restless Darkners chattering amongst each other. Three of the kings quarreled in the balcony, though the King of Spades seemed to be absent. Seam’s attention finally shifted when his companion had at last decided to acknowledge him:

“I’ll forgive if you, you do too. Deal?”

“What?” Jevil’s words made absolutely no sense to Seam. For what did Jevil need forgiveness? 

“Later. Showtime. Let’s go, go, go”! Before Seam could inquire further, the curtains swung open, and their performance began. The duo’s chemistry and movements were perfectly in unison: Seam’s dazzling arrays of pyrotechnic magic exploded in the air as the jester somersaulted and cartwheeled his way into every Darkner’s heart. To Seam, everything felt as if to be in a slow-motion haze, but by the time the show was over, every audience member was applauding in a standing ovation. All was well.

The court entertainers took a well-deserved bow. Jevil straightened, grinning from ear to ear as he watched the Darkners trickle out of the great hall, the kings dawdling behind. But the jester’s beaming face suddenly contorted and furrowed into an expression of perplexity.

“Hey, Seamy Weamy?”

“Yes, my dear?” Seam replied, standing from his bow as well.

“Amiss...something, something is amiss.” The purple mage followed Jevil’s gaze and realized that he was observing the kings as they made their way out of the hall.

“Oh, yeah,” Seam spoke, “Have you seen the--?”

“Chaos King?" Jevil turned to address the feline. As he did, though, his body began to shiver and quake. His eyes widened, and he failed to let out any further utterance. He slowly lifted a trembling finger to point. Seam’s fur raised in terror as he realized that whoever--or whatever--was causing Jevil to quiver so violently in fear was standing right behind him.


	2. Ortus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare truly begins to unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for graphic depictions of violence and eye trauma. Thank you [I_May_Surprise_You](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_May_Surprise_You/pseuds/I_May_Surprise_You) for beta reading for me!

Seam anxiously turned to face the entity that loomed behind him. His tail lowered as the King of Spades stared down, his jagged teeth exposed in a warped sneer that spread across both his face and stomach. The plush cat found himself frozen in the icy shadow of the king’s towering form. The floorboards of the stage creaked loudly in the now-empty theater as the towering figure stepped even closer to Seam, the teeth of his gaping stomach near enough to rip the plushie’s fabric to shreds with only a single bite. The sight of this alone caused shivers to course through Seam’s trembling body and prompted Jevil to murmur with grave sincerity:

“Seam, move,” Jevil urged. As the gnashing teeth parted, the jester howled, “MOVE”! Jevil rushed forward, casting his fear aside to rescue his companion before the maw could cut through the feline’s torso. However, before the jester could reach Seam, a hanging cage dropped from the rigging system above and entrapped the jester. Jevil yelled and struggled to free himself before being hoisted away and out of sight, while Seam barely evaded the massive, serrated teeth of the monarch. He lept back to create a safe distance before attempting to fire an attack from his paw. The mage sent a flame barrelling towards Spades. It narrowly missed, but Seam’s arm was promptly snatched by a chain, which snaked up to his shoulder, painfully squeezing and restricting the fabric and cotton underneath.

The Chaos King’s smile widened as he clenched the other end of the chain in his iron grasp. He yanked it with great force, causing Seam to stumble to the ground as the stitching of his shoulder loosened and ripped. At first, the mage was too disoriented from the shock of the attack to feel any pain: it wasn’t until he saw his detached arm twitching and rotting in front of him that the searing agony set in and surged through his shoulder. A broken scream escaped his mouth as he fought to pick himself up from the wooden floor and escape. But it was futile: Spades once again flung the chain forward and around Seam’s torso, jerking the injured feline towards him. The malevolent king stooped, and Seam felt the monarch’s monstrous palm wrap around his neck and lift his body from the ground. Seam scratched and clawed at the hand around his throat, keeping his eyes locked on the king. That was when Seam noticed it.

Upon closer inspection, The King of Spades appeared fake. His joints and limbs were limp and barely connected to one another. Not only had his facial expression remained in an ever-constant grin, but he hadn't uttered a single word the entire time either. Moreover, Seam noticed one feature that revealed it all, though it was barely visible to the unconcentrated eye: strings. The epiphany dawned on the mage that this was not the real King of Spades. It was a marionette, and it was being hoisted from above by the rigging system. There was someone orchestrating everything, and they had to be just behind the curtain.

But there was no opportunity for the plushie to inspect for who was behind the whole act: the hands of the “king” tightened around his throat. Nausea and panic welled up within the feline. His head reeled. The marionette then flung Seam to the ground, pinning him down with the chain that protruded from the mouth of its stomach. The puppet finally spoke through unmoving lips, but the voice that spoke was not that of the king: it was a distorted, earsplitting cacophony that reverberated through the hall. It screeched like metal scraping against metal:

“If you wish to have prying eyes, then let them be pried.” Seam flailed and thrashed in a useless effort to escape his fate. The marionette’s fingers crept up to the feline’s buttons and wriggled their way underneath. Seam barely had time to process what was happening before the king’s fingers tightened around his eyes and violently pulled the threads loose. White-hot pain surged through the plush’s face; seams ripped a little at a time, each stitch snapping with the sting of a nerve being ripped from the socket. Seam attempted over and over again to let out a scream, a curse--something cathartic to numb the torture even slightly. But nothing came. The nightmare finally ended, with the same darkness that began it.

***

Seam woke in shivers. The terror of his nightmare was still in full-swing, though it was somewhat eased by the sight of Jevil still peacefully snoozing on the couch. Dwindling lantern light provided a comforting warmth, and the grandfather clock ticked just as it should. But the mage knew that the ticking would comfort him no longer; all he could think of was the fear that nightmare and reality were destined to converge somehow, and how the little second-hand continued to race ever closer to that moment.


End file.
